


at midnight we talk

by mariya



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 01:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariya/pseuds/mariya
Summary: Annoyed, Minghao cracks open an eye. "You better not be watching me sleep.""I was being cool about it," Soonyoung says.





	at midnight we talk

**Author's Note:**

> when will soonhao rise??

"Hyung," Minghao says, leaning against the mirror.

Soonyoung barely even glances at him. "Thirty more minutes," he says, eyes sharp and unyielding on his form in the mirror. His shoes squeak against the floor.

"You said that," Minghao pointedly looks at the clock even though he has the number in his head, it's all about dramatics. "An hour ago. You should at least take a break."

"I'm close to figuring it out."

If that were really true, Minghao would have left him alone. He knows the importance of being left alone to struggle with your work, physically detangling it, until there comes a moment of understanding. But those moments don't happen when you're exhausted and practically mummy-wrapped in Salonpas. He could smell it from the doorway.

"You're closer to passing out." Soonyoung ignores him and keeps dancing, each movement lacking their characteristic smoothness. Minghao unfolds his arms. If he's confrontational Soonyoung will know. "Well, I'm gonna take a break."

He can see Soonyoung raising an eyebrow through the mirror. "You haven't done anything, you've just been watching me."

"Yeah and it's a lot of work, so let's go to the convenience store. On me."

Soonyoung tries ignoring him. He must know it's all part of an elaborate plot, he has to. And yet if there's something Minghao can confidently predict, would even put good money on, it's that Soonyoung will always cave to food. This time, it takes all of the second verse for him to give in.

"Okay," he says, wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt. He's gotten thinner. "Let's go."

Rather than calling it a plot, Seungchol likes to call it a system. A plot makes it out to be a lot more sinister than it actually is. Whenever Soonyoung's overworked, they send in Seokmin and Seungkwan. Usually it only takes one or the other, but if they tag team it, he's done and in bed by one am. But today is an unusual day.

It's been an unusual month, really. Minghao's injury is driving him batshit insane. He barely leaves the dorm, he sinks all his time into physical therapy and the frustration of not seeing the results he worked for is starting to suffocate him. For a moment, he even thought of returning to Anshan, but he can't bear the thought of leaving Korea like this, pathetic and weak, dragging his body hand-over-hand back to his parents' doorstep. He can't return like this.

He can't do anything here, either. Soonyoung has to adjust all the choreography to make up for his absence, but knowing Soonyoung, knowing his bleeding, sentimental heart, he must have gone to the other leaders and told them he wanted to leave it as is. Let The8's absence be felt. And knowing the company, they said no.

So, he's the stressor these days.

The night is pleasantly cold and the moon hangs bright and full in the sky. There's something bewitching about the walk to the convenience store, they all feel it, and the magic is only amplified with exhaustion. The darkness hedges them in, isolating them from the rest of the world. It's the only time he really feels alone.

Even the convenience store seems unreal. The fluorescent lights sterilize the place, giving it a pale and sickly contrast to the colorful packaging.

Minghao stands watch over Soonyoung as he browses the ramen aisle. This close, the smell of Salonpas is thick and sharp under his nose. He wants to pull off each patch and slowly rub the soreness out of Soonyoung's muscles until he feels new again.

"You know I'm not actually letting you pay, right?"

Minghao doesn't even look at him. "I'm Chinese, you can't fight me on this."

"I don't care if you're injured or in a coma, you're not paying."

Minghao ignores him and walks toward the front where the boxed lunches are. "Let's get kimbap."

They settle on triangle kimbap. Before Soonyoung can even think of paying again, Minghao steers him toward the drink machine. "Since you're buying, will you get me a matcha latte?"

"You think you're cute, huh?" Soonyoung mutters. He takes out his wallet all the same.

Minghao grins. While Soonyoung isn't looking, he quickly pays. He's done paying before Soonyoung's even finished stirring the matcha powder into the steamed milk, still facing the vending machine. He glares at the plastic bag Minghao waves at him.

"Brush up on your wushu," he says, stirring so vigorously the milk sloshes up the rim of the cup. "Cause I'm about to kick your ass."

Minghao laughs and exchanges the bag for the latte. "You'd fight me even though I'm injured?"

"I'd fight you for ten won."

"Ah, I get it. You have to fight me when I'm at my weakest because that's the only way you'll win."

"You know, the members think you changed a lot," Soonyoung says, trying to pinch Minghao's cheek. He easily dodges it without spilling his drink. "But you just got really good at Korean, you brat."

Minghao walks backwards out the door, a big grin on his face. Sometimes, when Soonyoung's in a good mood, he'll let Minghao get away with speaking informally. He tries it now with a tilt of his head.

"In that case, don't you wish you could know me in Mandarin?"

"What, so you can harass me in two languages? No thanks." Soonyoung walks past him, peeling back the tabs on his kimbap.

"No, so I can have twice the amount of words to love you with."

Soonyoung laughs so hard he spits out rice. "Please stop. Eat this."

Minghao leads Soonyoung back to the dorm as they eat. He keeps one hand in his pocket and the other around his latte, leaning over to let Soonyoung feed him.

 

 

 

  

Minghao finds himself in the dance studio again, even after their choreographer bans him from stepping past the threshold. He trusts Soonyoung not to snitch him out, since technically he isn't supposed to be here either. This time around, it's two am, and Minghao's still leaning against the mirror, watching Soonyoung sweat it out to their title track. His sweat is pink from all the red hair dye. It looks like blood diluted, gathering at the point of his chin.

The second-best thing to dancing himself is watching Soonyoung at work, but there's a guilt that accompanies it.

"Tell Seungchol I can't come home, I still have half the set list to prepare." Soonyoung pulls his baseball cap low over his eyes and goes through the motions again, mouthing off the beats. The bass is turned down so low Minghao can feel it in his teeth.

"He didn't send me here, I wanted to watch you dance."

Soonyoung's a real pro. He responds without messing up his footwork, turning his head over his shoulder to Jisoo crooning over the speakers, _crazy love, crazy love_. "How's your waist feel?"

"The doctor says I can't dance for at least three more weeks."

Soonyoung's expression is hidden by the brim of his hat. Minghao imagines it can't be good. "Listen to the doctor, Myungho. If I catch you practicing, you won't be able to dance again for at least a year."

"You're so violent these days."

"Concerned, more like."

Soonyoung lifts his arms up. His shirt rides up the boyish curve of his waist, revealing white medicinal patches right at the dip of his waist. He must be wearing more than just the ones on his waist for the smell to be this strong.

"Do you want a massage?" Minghao asks after the song ends.

Soonyoung turns around immediately. "God, yes."

He settles on the floor, placing his jacket beneath his hips as Minghao pulls off his sweatshirt and hands it to him. "For your head."

"Thanks," he says, tucking it under his cheek. "Did you get a new cologne?"

Minghao places his knees on either side of Soonyoung's ass and gets his hands on his waist, right where his shirt rucks up. He's known for a while that his hands span the entire width of Soonyoung's waist, but it's the first he has the opportunity to truly appreciate it.

"Yeah. You like it?"

"It suits you." Soonyoung groans softly at Minghao's thumbs digging into the muscles flanking the base of his spine.

Minghao quietly works at the muscles above his iliac crest before moving up to the edges of the patches. He curls a finger beneath the patch, eyes low. "Can I take this off?"

Soonyoung wiggles. "Sure."

Minghao slowly peels off two patches, applying steady pressure with the heel of his palm as he lifts the patch away. Knowing there are more hidden beneath Soonyoung's shirt, he slides his hand up and feels out three more along his spine and shoulders.

"You've worked hard," Minghao murmurs, gently peeling off every patch. "Take a shower after this and reapply the Salonpas, okay?"

Soonyoung's groan is muffled by Minghao's sweatshirt.

"Okay, hyung?"

Soonyoung laughs, openmouthed and more of a sigh than anything. "Sure, whatever, just keep-ah, shit, right there."

Minghao works up Soonyoung's spine, both hands disappearing beneath his shirt. His upper body is surprisingly lean compared to his thighs, Minghao can work out his ribs and vertebrae and wants, suddenly and intensely, to feed him. He doesn't know what to do with this feeling but work harder at Soonyoung's muscles to get it to go away.

Eventually, Soonyoung falls silent, and when Minghao reaches over to tilt up the brim of his hat, he's asleep.

 

  

 

 

Later that week, the whole dorm is asleep. Seokmin and Seungkwan came home hours ago emptyhanded and slightly upset, telling Seungchol that Soonyoung would be home soon. Minghao stays up not exactly waiting for him. Sleep doesn't come easily to him these days. Without a schedule, time begins to flow strangely in his life. The days blend into one another, drawn out like a long tender note.

 _Come home,_ Minghao texts Soonyoung. _There's_ _kimchi-jjigae._

He responds almost at light speed. _On my way!!_

Minghao leans against the stove as he waits for the _kimchi-jjigae_ to heat up, scrolling through Wonwoo's book recommendations on his phone. Most of it is Murakami. He's never asking him for recommendations again.

Minghao empties a box of sliced tofu into the pot once it begins to simmer. He microwaves the leftover rice from dinner, and right when timer sounds off, the lock on the front door flips and in walks Soonyoung, three am on the dot and smelling like sweat and the cool nighttime air.

"Food?" he asks as he wrestles out of his jacket, cheeks pink.

"On the stove." Minghao retrieves the rice from the microwave and grabs a spoon from the drawer, handing it to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung hums happily and turns off the stove. It must be gross that Minghao instinctively got only one spoon, and that Soonyoung doesn't even question sharing it, dipping a spoonful of rice into the soup before feeding Minghao.

"Good?" Minghao asks, draping himself over Soonyoung's back. He clasps his hands together at Soonyoung's stomach. Soonyoung's impressive, his mouth can handle some serious heat. The _kimchi-jjigae_ is still simmering on the stove, it's like spooning liquid metal straight out of the furnace.

Soonyoung slurps down the soup. "Really good. Want some more?"

"It's for you." It wasn't initially, but there's something infinitely more satisfying watching Soonyoung eat rather than eating himself.

He presses his face into the back of Soonyoung's neck and closes his eyes. He's been feeling off lately, and even with two languages he can't find the right words to explain why. Maybe he has a third language too; when he's feeling romantic, he'll go as far as to say dancing is another form of language, but he suffered those years in Korea. He knows what language really is.

But the fact remains that, standing here with Soonyoung, he still can't find the words he needs. Ever since he stopped dancing, something heavy settled in him, like inadequacy.

So what, if he's grown now. He's not sixteen anymore and smaller than Soonyoung. His hands span the width of Soonyoung's waist. He's taller, stronger in the arms and chest, and yet he still can't support Soonyoung when it counts.

"You should sleep after this," Minghao says quietly, patting Soonyoung's chest.

There's a moment of complete stillness when Soonyoung's heart jumps up to meet the heart of Minghao's palm. It's so sudden, so light, that Minghao nearly misses it, would have dismissed it as unimportant if Soonyoung hadn't squirmed out of his hug after that.

"I will," Soonyoung says. Even with his face turned away, the red flush along his ears give him away. "You sleep first, I'll clean up."

Minghao hesitates, but files the thought away for another time.

"Okay," he says. "Goodnight."

 

 

 

  

This time, everyone is asleep except for him. It's a miraculous occurrence this close to a concert.

Minghao goes out into the kitchen and puts on the electric kettle, measuring out _pu-er_ into a teapot as he waits for the water to boil. He's just about to add in the chrysanthemum before he hears someone shuffling behind him.

"Go back to bed, Mingyu. I'm not robbing us."

Last time he was out here this late, Mingyu came out bleary-eyed and dehydrated, and wielding his junior high soccer trophy like a club, thinking he'd heard an intruder.

Soonyoung's voice comes from over his shoulder. Strangely, it doesn't sound like he was asleep, even though the light beneath his door was off when he walked by. "Why are you still awake?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"So you're drinking tea at four in the morning?"

Minghao begins plucking the chrysanthemum petals from the stems and carefully places them into the teapot. He doesn't bother separating the petals from the stem when he's drinking by himself or with Junhui, but with Soonyoung he does everything properly. He'll separate the petals from the stems, he'll rinse the leaves and warm the cups.

"Yeah, want some?"

Soonyoung looks torn. Minghao knows he loves tea, is the one who appreciates Minghao's parents most when they send _pu-er_ cakes and cans of tea from their trips to Guangzhou. He shuffles over and pulls his sleeves down over his hands to warm them against the kettle, carrying it over to the tea tray on the dinner table.

Minghao serves the tea, taking the teapot into one slender hand and straining the tea into a pitcher. From the pitcher, he serves Soonyoung first. "You couldn't sleep either?"

"I keep waking up," Soonyoung says, drinking slowly.

He never says it, but Minghao knows he doesn't sleep well when they have a busy schedule. The stress keeps him up at night. Sometimes he sleepwalks, sitting up in bed with his eyes wide open like a possessed man. It makes him an unpopular roommate, but still infinitely better than Seokmin.

Minghao burns his fingers on the cup as he throws the tea back like a shot. It scalds his throat on the way down.

"I'm sorry," he says, feeling as though the words might choke him.

Soonyoung looks up, confused. "For what?"

"Burdening you."

Minghao refills their cups, but before he can drink the next one, Soonyoung stills him with a gentle hand on his wrist. Minghao looks down at their hands. Slowly, he turns his hand supine, and watches as Soonyoung takes it for the invitation it is and joins their hands.

"Rather than saying you're burdening me, don't you think I've failed you? I let you push yourself too hard."

"You didn't know I was in pain."

Soonyoung's smile is like a wince. "I'm your hyung, I should've known and taken care of you better."

Minghao squeezes Soonyoung's hand. He takes being a hyung too seriously sometimes. "But I didn't tell you. Is it also your job to be a mind reader?"

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Soonyoung says, squeezing back twice as hard.

"I was being serious. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, hyung. I'll take better care of myself and you too, and I'll become someone you can rely on."

Soonyoung cushions his chin in the palm of his hand. It makes him look a lot fonder than Minghao's used to seeing him, and he feels curiously, his heart opening. Just a sliver big enough for an eye to peer through. "You're already someone I can rely on. I think we both understand that we work for perfection and pushing ourselves to the limit is unavoidable, but we shouldn't take injury as failure."

"In other words, you haven't failed me. Let's stop feeling bad and take better care of each other in the future, okay?"

"Okay," Minghao says slowly. He can only pretend to understand the guilt Soonyoung feels toward him. "Let's treat each other like equals."

"Nice try, you still can't use informal speech with me."

Minghao laughs into his tea. _Guk po_ lukewarm tastes medicinal, but tonight he finds he doesn't mind the taste.

 

 

  

 

The choreography is officially done at the end of the month, just in time for their overseas tour.

The members leave today for California. The disappointment is unmistakable as he watches the last of them file out the door for a five am flight, Junhui tearfully clinging to him until the last second. So maybe he doesn't miss the early flights, and he won't miss Junhui. There's always a silver lining.  
  
"Go already," he says, wrestling Junhui off. "The car's waiting."  
  
"Goodbye my sweet dongsaeng." Junhui pretends to wipe away a tear. Minghao flips him off as he grabs his carry on and bolts out the door last, locking it behind him.  
  
With the dorm empty, Minghao returns to bed. Just as he's falling back asleep, he hears the distant sound of the front door opening and someone running in without taking off their shoes. Then, the bedroom door creaks open. Mingyu probably forgot something, but he doesn't make a sound, he stands silently at the door.

Annoyed, Minghao cracks open an eye. "You better not be watching me sleep."

The light behind his head makes it hard to see Soonyoung's face, but he knows the shape of him anywhere.

"I was being cool about it," Soonyoung says.

"As cool as creepy can be. What'd you forget?"  
  
"Mingyu forgot his passport, do you know where it is?"  
  
"It's probably in his desk drawer."  
  
Soonyoung goes over to Mingyu's desk and pulls out the drawer, finding the passport easily. He stares at it intensely in the darkness. He's thinking about something again.  
  
"Hyung," Minghao says. "You're going to be late."  
  
Soonyoung is silent for a long while. For a minute, Minghao thinks he left and begins to drift off again before the smell of Salonpas creeps over him and his bed dips at his hip and the side of his head. When he opens his eyes, Soonyoung stares down at him with an intensity he's only familiar with in the studio.

"I'll be back soon," Soonyoung promises, before kissing him.

Minghao feels dumb for not having seen it sooner. He slides a warm hand up Soonyoung's neck and holds him gently, making a pleased sound against his mouth. He doesn't know what else to say but a domestic pleasantry, hoping it might keep Soonyoung safe.

"Go safely," he says.


End file.
